


I'm Your Man

by trillian_jdc



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 80s Music, Holmes Brothers, Karaoke, M/M, Mystrade Monday, POV Mycroft Holmes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25833898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillian_jdc/pseuds/trillian_jdc
Summary: When Mycroft Holmes sees Greg Lestrade perform on a pub karaoke night, he gets the song stuck in his head, and the actions he takes to clear the earworm change his life.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 27
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

"Mr. Holmes, sir?" The voice came through the intercom. It wavered a bit, which was as it should be. Mycroft Holmes shouldn't be disturbed without good reason. 

"Yes?"

"You wanted to be alerted immediately if security observed atypical behavior from subject Amati. We have just received a report of such." 

"Explain," Mycroft demanded. He'd spent a lot of time training this team on just how unusual something had to be for it to be considered "atypical" for Sherlock, and such out-of-character activities could be precursors for additional, even more risky behavior. 

"Well, sir, the subject has just taken the stage at a pub karaoke night." 

Mycroft blinked three times, then rapidly prepared for departure. "Have a car waiting for me. ETA?" 

"Traffic patterns indicate ten minutes, Mr. Holmes." 

Upon arrival at the pub, Mycroft slipped unnoticed into the Famous Cock, standing inconspicuously in the shadows near the door. Based on overheard scuttlebutt, his brother and his doctor had apparently just departed after wowing the Scotland Yard crew with their duet on "Holding Out for a Hero". 

Mycroft was planning to find out what in the world would motivate his brother to engage in such a public performance when his attention was distracted by more movement on the small stage. A laughing Greg Lestrade was being pushed up front by several members of his team, protesting all the while. "Fine, fine, I'll do it, but no pictures!" 

A synthesized drum started up, and Lestrade started moving to the beat as he took the mic. Mycroft froze, still as a statue, all his attention on the handsome officer, who had begun singing, 

"Call me good, call me bad  
Call me anything you want to, baby"

That certainly sparked the imagination. As the song continued, Mycroft realized that Lestrade clearly had very little shame after a few drinks, as he threw himself into the performance, particularly when it came to the chorus, "If you're gonna do it, do it right, do it with me," punctuated with hip thrusts. The man was managing to flirt with everyone watching him, catching the eyes of women and men alike. The small audience of co-workers was rapt, and his magnetism was such that others in the rest of the pub had begun to take notice. Mycroft couldn't take his eyes off him.

He had long admired, intellectually, the Detective Inspector for being able to work with Sherlock with such patience and clever handling, but he hadn't allowed himself to consider Lestrade as a person. He was gorgeous, without knowing it, which added to the attraction. And in motion, well! Mycroft wasn't going to be able to determine how best to gather information from Sherlock when all he could think about was what he was seeing, and what those gestures suggested. Particularly once Lestrade had opened up a few of the buttons down the front of his shirt; apparently, the lights were quite warm. As was Mycroft. 

As the song faded away into the chorus yet again, with buzzed police officers shouting along and jumping up and down, Mycroft shook himself back into place. Watching the man on stage sing a ridiculous 80s pop hit was suddenly one of his favorite memories. There was no longer any excuse for his presence, however, so he had better return to work before he was noticed. He reluctantly and surreptitiously went back out through the door to his waiting car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dare you not to get [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6W0d9xMhZbo) stuck in your head. It happened to me, which started me thinking about what Mycroft might do and how much he might enjoy it.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, while dressing, whenever his attention wandered from planning strategy for his schedule, he found himself humming. It was that ridiculous song from last night! Quite the earworm, but Mycroft would be able to put it out of his head, of course. The Holmes mind was always focused. And above such silly pop nonsense. Never mind the visuals it brought with it.

* * *

Between meetings, Anthea brought the updated planning memos to him, only to catch him with the song once again infecting his thoughts. "Are you humming, sir?" she asked, genuinely curious, as this would be the first time she'd ever heard such a thing. She had never thought about it, but if pressed, she would have imagined Mycroft Holmes only listened to orchestral classics.

"It's nothing. A song stuck in my head." Mycroft attempted to deny how often his thoughts had drifted back to images of the evening before. 

A good assistant always had the right knowledge to be of service. She advised, "There are two recommended courses of action in such a case, assuming you wish to eliminate it. Listen to the song all the way through, or listen to another song to replace it, with the top recommendation being _God Save the Queen_." 

Mycroft looked at her, warily. That advice seemed a bit too on the nose. 

"It's been studied by Durham University, sir." She did her best to remain serious, schooling her features not to grin. The idea of the proper Mr. Holmes being a closet Wham! fan was too good not to giggle over later. 

"If you say so. I think my next meeting of ministers might also bore it out of me." The two shared conspiratorial smiles and got back to work.

* * *

Later that evening, changing for the night, Mycroft found himself once again with that damned song sneaking up on him. Whenever his attention wandered, he started humming without noticing. Perhaps he'd try Anthea's advice, then. Once he was settled in bed. If he was going to run through the entire song in an attempt to eliminate it, he'd like to be comfortable for the vision that accompanied it. 

On the third run-through of his mental movie, Mycroft drifted off, a smile on his lips and his hands in his lap.


	3. Chapter 3

Day two of the earworm attack meant more direct action was needed. If Mycroft was honest with himself -- and what was the point of not being? whom was he going to fool? -- then it wasn't the song that was the actual point of fixation, but the performer. He needed more exposure in order for the memory to become something less than the obsession he currently was fighting. Whenever he let go his iron control, the handsome, smiling, silver-haired man went gyrating through his mental field of vision. Viewing more performances should mean it would become usual, everyday, no longer something to plague him.

But how to arrange his presence without making it seem like more than it was, simply a treatment to restore mental normality? No one would expect him to know about the regular social events, let alone be interested in attending. And Sherlock would find his preoccupation much too powerful a pressure point. Which meant he was the key to making it happen. 

Instead of a tea break at the office, Mycroft took a trip to Baker Street, finding both John and Sherlock in the sitting room. Perhaps his brother could be manipulated into giving him an excuse to see more of Lestrade. Sherlock would love to think that Mycroft was tricked into doing what he wanted to do in the first place. Best to start, then, with an insinuation. "Good morning, brother dear. How is your throat?" 

"Don't be tedious, Mycroft. Our pub night with co-workers doesn't require your attention." Sherlock didn't even bother to look his way from his sprawl on the sofa. 

"I never took you for _karaoke_." Mycroft projected disdain that was nearly palpable, reinforcing the idea that he would never want to participate in such a plebeian activity. 

"John rightly pointed out that more collegial relations would make everyone's lives easier." Sherlock smiled in his flatmate's direction. 

"And he lost the bet," John chimed in, gleefully. "Greg knew he wouldn't be able to resist breaking into his desk for a cold case file. Good thing he didn't leave the mousetrap he was planning on. A few snapped fingers might make it harder to play the violin." 

Mycroft looked between the two of them. His plan was working, but he was stunned at the idea he may have underestimated the man he wanted to see again. Lestrade had demonstrated an amazing facility to manage one of the most difficult personalities that had ever existed. He projected an everyman facade, but underneath was a surprisingly clever mind, able to outwit Sherlock for his own good. Yesterday, he'd been focusing on Lestrade's outer attractiveness, and his facility in social situations, but there was clearly much more to him. 

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and observed his brother, visibly surprised that he didn't have an immediate response. Then he smirked, ready to bait. "You know, Mycroft... you should consider joining us." 

"Really, Sherlock? You think I would fit in socializing with the Yard at a pub?" Mycroft wrinkled his nose to perpetuate his deception. 

"Something tells me you might appreciate the ... scenery." Sherlock's grin showed he was much too pleased with himself for deducing Mycroft's interest. 

He was also clearly thrilled with the idea that he could show up his brother. Sherlock loved the idea of embarrassing Mycroft at any time, and he'd unwittingly provided an opening for Mycroft to indulge in further observations, if the elder could prevent the younger from outright meddling. 

John looked back and forth between the two, clearly missing whatever they were really talking about. "Um... Mycroft... it might not be your kind..."

Sherlock interrupted. "Nonsense, John. You told me anyone was welcome, correct? And alcohol is a valuable social lubricant." 

"Yeah, but Sherlock..."

This time, Mycroft interrupted. Time to assure his desired conclusion. He could play the fool for an evening, he'd get past this distracting fascination, and Sherlock would seem all the more acceptable to a group of people who needed to be more comfortable with him. "What do you want, Sherlock?" 

Sherlock's eyes lit up. "We'll each sing. And the winner is the one with the most applause."

"Don't be silly. I will not participate in a battle where the outcome is already determined. You know you are more accomplished at performance than I am." 

"I am glad to hear you admit it. What, then?"

"You, best behavior to your colleagues. No fatuous exaggerations of my position. I will perform a song of my choice, and I will choose one for you." 

"We will choose a song for each other," Sherlock countered.

"Agreed. I will see you then, assuming you don't strain something before the evening. Dr. Watson, a moment?" 

John walked Mycroft down to the street, where Mycroft had instructions for him. "I had an inclination of Sherlock's reaction, so I have already selected a song for him, but I need your assistance." 

John boggled briefly, but his eagerness and curiosity overwhelmed his distrust of Sherlock's brother. "Can't wait to hear what you picked. Tell me." 

"'The Devil Went Down to Georgia' -- so he will need to have his violin available." 

"I'm surprised, Mycroft, that's an excellent choice! A dramatic song about a life-threatening bet." 

"I thought you might appreciate that selection. And a crowd-pleaser, which should entertain your colleagues." 

"See you there," John responded. "I'll bring the fiddle."


	4. Chapter 4

The next week, John conspired with Greg to sneak Sherlock's violin out of the flat and into a safe place in the pub. The usual crew was already a drink in when Sherlock and John arrived, with Mycroft following a half-hour later. He'd dressed down for the occasion, but still armored, in a burgundy patterned waistcoat, black shirt, and charcoal trousers. 

Entering the dimly lit venue, he steeled himself for a moment, then calmly walked near the group, standing on the outskirts and nodding to Sherlock and John. Sherlock was eager to see him start, but the sign-up system meant it would be several songs yet. Time for a glass of scotch and some observation, as several of the Yard's finest worked their way through pop hits of the 80s and 90s. Mycroft wasn't noticed by any of them, as they were too interested in drinking and laughing with their friends, and he was doing his best -- which was considerable -- in not standing out. 

Soon enough, Sherlock was gesturing at Mycroft and smirking. "Next up," the host announced, "Mike with 'King for a Day'." Ah, his brother's subtle humor. At least Sherlock had selected something popular during his club days, with a minimal range, so he had a fighting chance, even if the song was more sentimental than he'd expected. 

It was during the beginning of the second verse, as Mycroft was singing

"Diamond rings and all those things,  
They never sparkle like your smile"

that Lestrade looked up at the stage and did a double take. After recognizing him, he kept his eyes fastened, grinning all the while. Mycroft managed to work his way through the rest of the song and left the stage as soon as he could. He hoped to quickly return to the shadows at the back of the room, but a hand placed on his arm prevented his retreat. 

"Didn't expect to see you here, 'Mike'." Lestrade seemed amused at his presence.

"Mycroft, please. Sherlock took my request for a low profile a little further than needed." 

"Isn't exaggeration always his way?" Lestrade responded. "Did you lose a bet as well?" 

"Something like that," Mycroft evaded. He hadn't planned on actually talking with the subject of his attention this evening, so he aimed to distract him. "But I believe it's Sherlock's turn now." 

Sherlock looked surprised when John handed him his violin, and then John looked surprised when the host announced it as a duet. But the two gamely took the stage for "The Devil Went Down to Georgia". John had fun playing up the wager "Johnny" made with the diabolical figure, and Sherlock animatedly launched into the screeches and effects on his instrument. By the time they'd finished, laughing all the way, the entire pub was entranced, jumping to their feet to applaud. 

"And there it is," Mycroft whispered to Lestrade, who'd stayed by his side, close enough that Mycroft could feel his body heat. "I expect your team will enjoy working with him a bit more now." 

Greg looked at Mycroft, assessing him for a moment, and quietly asked, "Was that the only reason you turned up?" 

"I'll tell you after you take your turn." 

"Oh, no, I'm not following that!" Greg threw up his hands and shook his head. 

"Well, then, you won't know why I'm here." Mycroft wanted to encourage him back to performing, focused on his ultimate goal, and if Lestrade took it as friendly teasing, all the better. 

But Greg wasn't to be dissuaded. "Oh, I can guess that. You and Sherlock are having some kind of spat, or there's a secret plan that requires your presence, or you're in temporary hiding because no one would expect you at karaoke night." 

No point in Mycroft dissembling, since Lestrade would never suspect the real reason. "Mmmm, would it surprise you to learn all of the above may be true to some degree?" Mycroft wouldn't meet his eyes, instead running a finger around the rim of his drink. 

Greg laughed, while his eyes tracked the graceful hand. "Not at all. I no longer try to predict much of anything a Holmes might do." 

John and Sherlock joined them at that moment, giddy with their success. Greg slapped John on the back. "Great job, mate! You should teach him 'Come On, Eileen' next." 

Sherlock looked puzzled. "It's another pop song with fiddle in it," John explained. 

"I do not play the _fiddle_ , John."

"Could've fooled me!" John elbowed the lanky detective in the side. "More fun than I expected, that was." Sherlock smiled at John's pleasure. 

"Good timing. Mycroft was about to share the real reason he's here," Greg responded. 

Before Mycroft could say anything, Sherlock's eyes lit up. "Oh, yes, let's hear him explain that." 

Mycroft frowned at Sherlock, narrowing his eyes. Why should he have expected Sherlock, high on applause, to give up on troublemaking? "I've told Greg that he'll only find out after he sings." 

"Ok, then let's do it together." Greg grabbed Mycroft's hand and tugged him up to the stage. "You know Prince, right?" 

Mycroft found himself, rarely, both tongue-tied and following someone else's lead, but Greg was two for two. Instead of speaking, he nodded, preparing himself for whatever may come. After cueing the song with the host, Greg kicked off with a bit of a lyric rewrite, singing towards Mycroft 

"You walked in, I woke up.  
I've never seen a pretty boy look so tough" 

Mycroft's brain fritzed momentarily. As Greg finished his part, he reset, gave himself over to being utterly ridiculous, and took up the response. It was, after all, true enough. 

"Your face is jammin'  
Your body's heck-a-slammin'  
If love is good, let's get to rammin' " 

The crowd had gone quiet, watching this unknown quantity propositioning their boss on stage. Mycroft cut his eyes to his brother, who was about to expire from hysterics at the language and the situation. He was still vertical only because John was propping him up. Still, a performance was a performance, Mycroft was going to give it his best, and this was Greg's idea, after all. 

Greg's eyes had darkened, and he was clearly willing to play this up, stalking towards Mycroft, who postured and flirted in return, turning away, glancing back over his shoulder, ducking his chin, and looking up through his lashes. On his part, Mycroft placed a hand against Greg's firm chest and backed him across the stage, looking him up and down before tossing his head and turning away. Greg grabbed his hand, pulled, and turned him back while singing "I think I want you," staring directly into his eyes. 

Thankfully, the song ended, the buzz of the room ramped back up, and Mycroft quickly left the stage, needing a break from the heady energy, even if it was all performance. He kept moving right through the pub, seeking air and equilibrium, but he couldn't shake Greg off. 

"Well, that was fun!" The police officer didn't seem to be put off by the performance, opening the outside door for Mycroft and following him through it. "You coming next week?"

Mycroft simply stared. He'd never expected to be welcomed, let alone invited back. The situation required more investigation. He asked Greg, "Do you do that every week?"

"Oh, yeah, it started as team-building, but now we just like to meet up and drink and make fools of ourselves." Greg clearly didn't realize Mycroft wasn't asking about the gathering. 

"I meant... never mind." Mycroft missed having his umbrella to lean on. He wanted a prop, some element of disguise. This was too sudden, and he didn't know what to do with his hands. He wanted to smoke, but for Greg's sake, he couldn't give into temptation. Well, not that one. 

"Oh, you mean the duet." Greg ducked his head, suddenly a bit shy, and ran his hand through his hair. "Well, no, can't say I've had a partner to perform with before." 

"I do hope that won't cause issues with your team." 

"Nah, it's all in fun. No one cares." Greg leaned back against the outside wall, arms folded, a casual portrait. "Hope it didn't bother you." 

Mycroft pinked, just a bit, but it was invisible in the dim evening light. "Sherlock's comments will likely be fulsome and pointed, but I've had worse." 

"Hey, you haven't told me the secret yet!" Greg inconveniently picked this moment to remember their earlier conversation as a change of subject. 

Bargaining. Mycroft could do this. "You still haven't fulfilled the conditions, Lestrade." 

"It's Greg. And I sang!" 

"No, we sang. What if I had wanted to see you perform?" Mycroft presented the truth in a way it would never be believed, a tactic he commonly found useful. 

"Who'd come to see me? My team thinks it's funny for the old man to make a fool of himself, and it's good for the morale." 

"So it is." Mycroft lowered his voice on the compliment, before stepping back and pulling his air of nonchalance back on. "Nevertheless, I must be going." 

Greg nodded. "Don't blame you. But I still hope you'll come back. Should have known that both Holmes were musically talented. Take care, Mycroft." 

As he went back into the pub, Mycroft stepped into his waiting car. The plan had failed; instead of clearing his memories, he'd made several, more powerful new ones. Another strategy would be needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since some of these songs may not be as well known, or have multiple versions: 
> 
> [King for a Day](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2HAV05qeXmY)
> 
> [The Devil Went Down to Georgia](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wBjPAqmnvGA)
> 
> [U Got the Look](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_jCuroTbqBI)

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to [WastingYourGum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WastingYourGum/pseuds/WastingYourGum) and [Ewebie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ewebie/pseuds/Ewebie) for brainstorming karaoke songs and singers with me. (More to come on those in future chapters.) And to [OneBlueUmbrella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/OneBlueUmbrella) for creating thirty-minute Thursday, which is usually when I start these things. Although I need more time to end them.


End file.
